


Distraction

by emma_ockham



Series: Short and Unrelated A/R Smut [6]
Category: Battlestar Galactica, Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Community: bsg_kink, Desk Sex, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Laura seduces Bill Arc, Light-Hearted, Naked Female Clothed Male, POV Male Character, Seduction, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 07:40:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8196319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emma_ockham/pseuds/emma_ockham
Summary: With Saul passed out on the couch, Laura tries to seduce Bill.





	

**Author's Note:**

> BSG_Kink Double Dog Dare, prompt by Singerdiva01_sk  
> Thanks to Lanalucy for the beta!

Booze had conquered his best friend, once again. Bill pulled a blanket over the snoring man on the couch and settled back at his desk where the president and he were working through their respective stacks of paperwork. It would be another few hours before they’d be finished, but maybe they could make better time now, without Saul’s impromptu comments. She was eying him though, as if work was as far from her mind as it had been from Saul’s.

"Don't look at me like that," he grumbled over the stack of reports he was processing. 

His president raised an elegant eyebrow in what would have been an innocent inquiry if her eyes hadn't sparkled so alluringly.

"What do you mean?" She did that sultry dark thing with her voice again, he noticed. 

He rolled his eyes at her, deeming it beneath himself to answer. These reports had to be finished. Saul may have fallen asleep on his couch in a drunken stupor, but they could not drop their responsibilities every time she felt like it, resoundingly brain melting as her interludes admittedly were. She knew that. He knew she did. 

Unasked for images of her earlier distractions floated up, the uninhibited way her legs wrapped themselves around him, her delicate whimpers, the way she coaxed him to impossible new levels of agitation - delight. 

Frak! He stopped himself, his body responding already as if it had been promised a rematch, and he glared at her. "Don't look at me like that!" 

Over her shoulder, he saw Saul shifting in his sleep. Maybe he shouldn’t have raised his voice.

"Like what, Admiral?" she said, ruining the matter-of-factness of her question by moistening her lip with the tip of her tongue. 

He sighed at her. "Woman, -" he said, the opening of a reprimand, but her hand rose, elegant and resolute - stopping him. 

He followed the length of her fingers with his eyes, wondering if she had devised special hand gestures to distract him. He didn’t think it beneath her.

"Alright," she said. "Alright, have it your way." 

He nodded his agreement and tore his eyes away from her inviting palm back to his report. Twenty-three statements to go. Two hours at best speed.

"One cannot help but wonder, though," her voice, still too dark for his ease, cut through his reading, "if there aren't quicker ways to divest a military man of his uniform."

His head snapped up. "Huh?" His mind obligingly supplied the tactics she had already employed in undressing him, in vibrant colors (and smells) (and sounds). Her hands, her teeth, tearing, struggling, …. As the list grew, he lost track of the question.

"That was why I was looking at you," she explained supportively. "They make it awfully hard, you know." 

Was she pouting now? Soft moistness colored her protruding lower lip a deeper shade of cerise. She was cute when she pouted. Actually she was. He avoided her eyes, knowing the dangers in store there. At least Saul was safely out of her reach; there was something to say for a good shot of Ambrosia.

"Maybe you ought to ask Ellen," he gruffed, eyes firmly fixed on the desk - until they slithered sideward to her knee. When did her skirt ride up like that? "Ellen has lots of practice," he said. It was a low blow and, expecting it would end this distraction once and for all, he looked up to drive his point home. 

A tactical mistake. He realized it as soon as he saw the flash in her eyes, a new intent that was not altogether as innocuous as the pouting had been. 

He raised his hand in defense, but she seemed to understand that as an invitation, rising from her chair, gracious, divine and luscious. And still with that look in her eyes. 

She sauntered over to his side of the desk and his eyes followed the graceful swaying of her hips, the distraction of her curves in motion, vectoring toward him. With a plan. 

He swallowed. "Errrm" he objected. His eyes shifting to Saul’s sleeping form and back to her.

"Yes?" she inquired benignly, as if Saul’s presence was an incentive instead of the deterrent it was. With a deliberate slow grace, she raised a satin skinned leg over his lap, allowing him ample view of her knee and a liberal amount of inner thigh before she unhurriedly straddled him. 

Her scent permeated his brain, decoupling some suddenly obsolete functions, allowing his blood to leave. 

All of her settled on his lap, a warm bundle of want. Not five inches away. Four, now. He sought her eyes. The left one harbored lust, the right one danced with glee. He switched between them, right, left, right, finally unable to look away from the lust that permeated the left one.

"Hi," he said. 

He felt her responding chuckle through the palms of his hands that had somehow found themselves a new home on her sides, his thumbs grazing the underside of her breasts.

"I have been wondering if clothes need to come off at all, you see," she drawled in a way that in fact would have befitted Ellen.

"Mine, one can remove effortlessly," she pointed out the unfairness in a faintly accusing tone, before showing him exactly how easily her dress could be discarded. 

It fell to the floor at their feet.

His eyes swept to Saul, thank the gods still blissfully unaware what the other occupants of the room were doing, and then to Laura’s black lace bra and panties, and the beautifully bared skin everywhere else.

"You see how beneficial that is, Admiral?" 

He saw. He had no problem with the concept at all.

She carefully removed his reading glasses and placed them on the table. Her fingertips brushed his cheeks and then his lips. She leaned in and he cocked his head, ready for her kiss. 

“You were saying?” she mumbled against his lips.

He hadn’t said a thing. Not that he remembered. But when he leaned in to kiss her properly, her index finger pressed against his mouth, stopping him.

“You sure you don’t want to work your way through those files first?” Her fingers curled at the nape of his neck, her eyes a smoky green, her lips moist and close, hovering where he could almost feel them. Dividing his attention between her hand, her mouth, and the gentle rocking of her hips on his lap, his fight to keep a coherent thought in his mind was a lost battle from the start.

Files? What files? Files were as irrelevant as – thinking up a metaphor about files. He focused on her lips, the ones that still hadn’t kissed him, despite her increasingly pressing lap dance.

Her lips curled upward in a smug smile. His hands roamed the skin of her back; her finger caressed his cheek, and he took his tactical advantage, capturing her mouth, demanding, searing. Her choked moan was all the warning he got before she took over and their tongues slid together in a kiss that went straight to his cock, every hormone in his body demanding that he undress right now so he could feel her skin brush against his own. 

When she released him, his knees had turned to jelly and he was glad he was already seated. She looked rumpled and spotted, her gaze focused on his mouth, dark and intent on her next attack.

“Your point, Madam President?” It came out as a near-slur, instead of his collected command voice. At the sound, Saul shifted on the couch, turning to his side toward them, his gentle snoring a friendly background noise and no help at all.

Bill’s question, instead of chastising her, brought the smugness right back in her eyes.

“My point, Admiral,” she purred, “is that military uniforms only interfere when one tries to remove them.” A flush bloomed on her cheeks and her hand snaked down over his belly until it came to rest on his fly. It followed the contours of his growing erection and his eyes shut themselves. He strained not to say yes yes in just the needy way he felt and decided a little quid pro quo would go a long way. 

Struggling to keep his eyes on her, he pushed the bottom of her panties aside and slid his middle finger through the wet folds. She rode against his hand shamelessly, her eyes closing in delight, her lips opening. So he pulled her close, slipped in his tongue and frakked her mouth is a slow counterpoint to the movement of his finger below. His other hand loosened her bra, baring her breasts. She moaned in his mouth and sped up her pace against him. 

Her hand sought his zipper, missed, stroked his cock, and finally opened his pants and freed his hard-on. For a second she lifted herself, stood, allowing cold air to caress his cock, giving his fingers more access, but then she pushed his hand out of the way, aligned his cock and sat down, swallowing him in a sudden swoop that had him seeing sparks. 

She moved in, pressing her breasts against his uniform and he once more regretted being dressed for missing out on the sensation of those nipples sliding over his naked chest. She rose on the tips of her toes to create movement. His head fell back when she sat down on him again. “Yes,” he pleaded.

“Help me Bill,” she breathed against his cheek, and he placed both hands under her and lifted her, feeling her sliding warm and tight over his cock, and let her down, then thought better of it and turned them both until she sat on the desk, his cock firmly embedded in her. Her removed the remnants of her bra, buried his head between her breasts and set the pace she deserved, the pace he desired. She quivered a gratifying stream of sighs and yesses.

On the couch, he saw Saul stir, and Bill quickened his pace, placing one hand on her mouth to stop her from waking his XO. Her eyes grew dark at the restraint and she contracted, orgasming around him in response to it. Storing her reaction in his mind, he rode her while she clung to him and his subconscious supplied him with bondage scenarios for future use, fueling his need for her, before he saw Saul’s eyes flick open, dazed, and then focusing on him and on the naked redhead on his desk. 

Bill’s breath left his chest, but his hips bucked into her harder, unable to stop his thrusts, caught as a deer in Saul’s gaze, until he erupted with a muffled grunt, spilling himself in her, his sudden release almost toppling him over, pushing her down on his desk. Catching himself, his palms sweaty against the hard wood, he hovered over her, feeling his cock slackening, but unwilling to withdraw.

He dismissed Saul with a flick of his eye, enjoying the view of Laura’s relaxed nakedness in between his reports, her half hooded eyes taking him in with apparent satisfaction. 

“You may have had a point, Madam President,” he acknowledged in a collected professional tone, as if they had been discussing dress codes from opposite sides of the table all along, and his cum wasn’t dripping out of her.

Saul grinned leeringly at him from the couch, raising a thumb, before turning his back on them and taking up snoring again.


End file.
